


A Moth in Amber

by Mithen



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Love, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andreth and Aegnor had one spring together, and each of them carried it in their hearts the rest of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moth in Amber

__ “Do candles pity moths?”  
“Or moths candles, when the wind blows them out?”  
\--Andreth and Finrod, from the “Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth”

Later in her life she was known by the elves as Saelind, which means “Wise-heart” in their tongue. But before she was wise, she was just Andreth, just a young woman who loved to walk the woods at dusk and climb the mountain trails to watch the stars start to kindle in the twilight sky.

It was there she saw him first, with his bow slung over his back and his hair bright as flame, singing as he went. He saw her and his voice faltered; his eyes met hers and for that moment she remembered nothing of Firstborn and Secondborn, nothing of Dooms. She knew only that he was fair and he looked at her with light dawning in his eyes and came forward and took her hands in his.

For one perfect moment she was happy.

They had one fragile spring together, one time of gentle flowers before the sun scorched the earth and left it barren. In that spring, they walked the woods together and talked endlessly of small things, unimportant things: naming the birds in the trees, chattering about their siblings, discussing the weather. It mattered not as long as they were together.

Once, half-teasing, she said that surely there were other maids more lovely than she for him to spend time with, for she was brown and plain as a moth while he was bright and glorious as a butterfly. But he frowned and drew her close, saying "Nay, love, if you could see your own fea--your spirit that flickers around you, you would never say such things! So dappled and opalescent, like the cooling shade shot through with starlight, always-changing and ever-shifting." He kissed the top of her head. "More beautiful than any gem," he murmured, and she heard a deep and heavy sadness in his voice.

Spring faded and summer began, and he told her he was leaving, and she knew without his saying so that it was forever, truly forever, and she would never see him again. That last day, they wandered a pine barrens hand in hand, unspeaking, and her heart was a broken stone in her breast. When she saw a glint of gold half-buried in the pine needles, she bent and found a lump of clear amber, and at its heart a little brown moth, frozen forever.

She gazed at it a long time, then handed it to him, saying, "Take this with you in memory of me, lord! May it help you remember your little moth when I am lying cold in the earth somewhere and all others have forgotten me."

But he said, "Rather would I have a lock of your hair to carry close to my heart."

She took then her knife, and hacked wildly at her hair, leaving it ragged, severed strands floating in the air between them. "Take it then," she cried, pushing the dark glossy length at him along with the amber, "Take it and leave me, but I shall have none other but you in all my life!"

And she turned and walked away, blinded by tears; but heard him say as she went, "And I none but you, my dearest love."

* * *

She was old woman with hair as white as snow, called wise by even the elves, when Finrod came to her after the War of Sudden Flame to tell her that his brother Aegnor had been killed. One death among so many, one loss among so much despair! Yet there were tears in his eyes and she reached out to comfort him and found herself weeping on his shoulder, great racking sobs that seemed to tear her apart. They stood a long time and held each other, and perhaps there was some measure of comfort, however small, to be found there.

When her eyes were dry and aching, he said gently, “They found on his body something which I wish to give you,” and handed her a tiny casket of gold.

Turning it over in her hands, she laughed bitterly. “Long has he carried his moth in amber close to his heart!” she said. “Unchanging and perfect, as I was not.”

But when she opened it, she found no golden gem, no flawlessly preserved insect, but only a loop of hair that once had been rich and glossy, but was now brittle and faded with age. When she touched it with a shaking finger, it trembled into dust, lifting into the air for a moment and then gone with a breath.

“Andreth.” Finrod’s voice came from above her, rich as sunlight and compassionate as the stars, “What cared my brother for timelessness? It was you he loved, with all your ever-changing beauty, not some phantom frozen in youth. All of you, not just the spring you had together. He had no need to carry a cold stone when his heart was with you in all your days.”

And then Andreth wept again, and this time the tears seemed to bring healing, and a serenity born of terrible grace. “Once you asked me to wait for him, in whatever my soul found beyond the Doom of my folk,” she said. “And I tell you now that if it is in my power, I shall be there for him! For as the worm becomes the moth, so may the moth one day become more than it can imagine, beyond the chrysalis of death and the cocoon of the void.”

She lived not long after that day, but all who saw her from then said that it was as if her face was transfigured, and the care of long years somehow eased. She both laughed and cried often, embracing the bitter and sweet together in life, and all who knew of her spoke of her wisdom and her grace. 

When she died she was holding Finrod Felagund’s hand, and she looked at him and smiled as if in comfort before her eyes fixed on eternity. And Finrod wept as he closed her eyes for the last time, but his tears held hope as well as grief, and a peace and acceptance beyond measure.


End file.
